Bright Yellow Moon

World Serpent; 2001

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You know, for a death-obsessed, doom-foretelling all-around creepy guy, David Tibet sure does have a lot of friends. Since the dawn of the whole British-Industrial-Experimental-Noise-Collage scene close to thirty years ago, Tibet has played with everyone from Death in June to 23 Skidoo to Psychic TV. Perhaps most notable, though, are his frequent collaborations with Steven Stapleton (aka Nurse With Wound), arguably one of the most important noise artists of the 20th century and-- without a doubt-- one of the most prolific. Throughout the years, Stapleton and Tibet have worked together countless times, yet it took a near death experience to bring them together for a double-billing.

Built by Stapleton and Tibet around lyrics written by the latter while in a hospital, recovering from a near fatal bout with appendicitis (complete, it would seem, with hallucinations of angels of death), Bright Yellow Moon is the first official collaborative record between Nurse With Wound and Current 93. Given the two fine musicians at the helm, and given such a vivid experience to draw from, one would assume Bright Yellow Moon to be a shocking look at human mortality-- already a recurring theme in Tibet's work. The results, however, are decidedly hit or miss.

There are a few great moments like this on Bright Yellow Moon. Unfortunately, they're all sandwiched between often thick slabs of Tibet's so-called "apocalyptic folk" and chunks of go-nowhere filler. "Disintegrate Blur 36 Page 03" is little more than aimless keyboard tones accompanied by cymbal crashes, kind of like the ones scattered throughout Homotopy to Marie, but without any of the creeping tension that made that record so stark and twisted. It drags on for nearly ten minutes, before it gives way to overly dramatized spoken word that ultimately goes nowhere. Tibet is accompanied by a computer-voice (which I can best describe as the British cousin of Conan O'Brian's Pimpbot 5000) repeating the mantra, "Your time is mine." I guess this is Tibet's (perhaps characteristically odd) way of trying to communicate the feelings of helplessness which came with the unexpected onset of a potentially fatal disease.

On the next track, though, his music hits this mark with far greater accuracy than do his words. "Mothering Sunday (Legion Legion)" is an astonishing sound collage, glorious in its complexity. As a vocal sample from an old folk song and field recordings of a train are drowned out by a burst of noise (imagine a giant furnace spitting flames), the listener can imagine that this is what Tibet experienced as he lost consciousness in that hospital, only dimly aware of his life slipping from his hands. Simple, static tones resonate behind waves of sheer droning sound, each shifting in and out while, off in the distance, a saxophone squeals away madly. Or is it the horn of the train, the sound of its wheels still haunting your memory?

Eventually, the chaos gives way to near silence. A few plaintive synth tones and an apathetic, arrhythmic clicking appear, tentatively padding the void, while occasional echoes-- garbled human voice, Berio-style tape manipulations, chopped up bits of distant radio-- cut through. Effected sounds resonate; loops appear and disappear. Sounds linger just loud enough so that you can hear them, but just quiet enough that you can't make them out. Over the course of twenty minutes or so, Tibet and Stapleton watch their world destroyed, and then rebuild it to the best of their ability.

This is a piece that stands with the best of either artist's material-- merging the dramatic sensibilities of noise units like SPK and Throbbing Gristle with the musique concrète techniques perfected by artists like Cage and Xenakis. It's a lot like both groups' earlier works-- in fact, the hit-or-miss acoustic poeticism and the simplistic drum machines that have infected their most recent offerings is nowhere to be found.

"Mothering Sunday" is followed by "Nichts," a painfully boring acoustic piece. David strums his guitar, and sings/speaks aimlessly with an admittedly fragile voice about insistent cuckoos, silent children, drowsing poppies, sunny fields, walking like shadows, and lots of other uncharacteristically romantic schlock. "I lose myself/ And dream of worlds/ That lie between/ Your fingers," he tells us at one point, in a stylistically dead British swagger. "And hide behind/ Your eyes/ And dream of forests/ And forts of snow/ Where we may kneel/ And hold each other/ In our still young arms/ Till the moon goes out." Though such aimless poeticism was no doubt a crucial part of Tibet's healing process, the decision to share it with his listeners is questionable, especially when one considers the hefty price tags on your average limited-edition World Serpent record ($34.99's the price tag on this one).

Tibet occasionally tosses off a fine couplet while pondering the relevance of time or the futility of human existence. Unfortunately, these occasional insights about mortality only serve to remind the listener of his time being wasted when they're followed up by lines like, "When the snake is dead, they put roses in their head/ When the roses die, they put diamonds in their eye."

"Die, Flip, or Go to India" is difficult in a different way. An instrumental bridge between a long folk number and the album's closing (and admittedly stunning) collage, it does little more than reprise the dullest parts of "Disintegrate Blur." It seems obvious that Stapleton and Tibet intend these aurally plain segments to contrast the chaos of the record's noisier portions. Sadly, they succeed at little more than boring people to sleep. At times, Bright Yellow Moon is quite stunning, but it drags on far longer than necessary, placing it firmly into the "less-than-the-sum-of-its-parts" category. Tibet and Stapleton are both fine musicians with excessively large back catalogs, much of which is far more consistent than this. All but the most fervent industrialists would do well to look elsewhere for their fix of either artist. Bright Yellow Moon, despite its moments, just isn't worth it-- especially given that whole human mortality thing.